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Brilliant inventor Jason Morris has little time to invest in personal relationships. His dedication to his work often makes him thoughtless and distracted when it comes to the woman in his life  which is why no woman has ever stayed in his life for very long. So Jason is content to admire his dream woman  local newscaster Susan Landers  from afar, and to continue on with his work in solitude. That is, until she calls him to arrange for an interview...

Susan Landers understands Jasons commitment to his work  she feels the same drive to excel in her own career. She doesnt take no for an answer, and is determined to land an exclusive interview with the elusive inventor. But once she gets to know him, she has to admit that her interest in him is far from just professional...

Chapter Two

Susan had read every article shed found about Dr. Jason Morris  not that many had been written about the reclusive inventor  but had learned little more than that he was brilliant and unconventional and that he lived in what amounted to a walledin compound to protect his work. Two days after hed hung up in her ear, she stood outside his massive iron gate and studied the security camera peering back at her. It was a dark, cloudy, windy afternoon and she suspected an ugly storm was going to break any minute. She pushed the red button beneath the camera, hoping she hadnt made this drive in vain.

A moment later, a mans voice growled, "What?"

"Dr. Morris?"

"Im busy. If its a delivery "

"Im Susan Landers, and Id like to talk to you about an interview. I tried to call "

"Damn," the man interrupted in exasperation. "Randys going to stretch this as far as he can, isnt he?"

"I dont know who Randy is, but I "

"Yeah, yeah. Youre Susan Landers."

Since he still sounded disbelieving, she glared straight at the camera. "Mr. Morris, have you ever seen me on the news?"

"I might have seen Susan Landers once or twice," he admitted cautiously.

"Well? I assume youre seeing me on a security monitor."

"The monitors in another part of the house. Im rarely interested in what my callers look like."

The guy was certifiably nuts. Brilliant, but nuts. "Couldnt you just "

"If youre really Susan Landers, what were you wearing during your newscast last night?"

Baffled, she tried to remember. Clothes werent that important to her; she had someone who helped her put together professionallooking ensembles because it was part of the job. "A red suit. I hate that jacket," she added. "Its too short in the sleeves, and I "

"You tug at the cuffs," he said. "You really are Susan Landers?"

"I really am. Now could we ?"

The iron gates swung apart with welloiled efficiency. "Come in," he said. "Ill meet you at the front door."

This, she thought, must be the way Alice had felt just before she stepped through the looking glass. She had a feeling she was in for quite an experience on the other side.

Jason watched through a lead glass window as a bronze sports car came to a stop at the foot of the marble stairs that led up to his front door. He still wouldnt be surprised if Randy emerged with a Susan Landers lookalike and a big, stupid grin.

But only one person slid out of the low car, and it most definitely was not Randy. He swallowed hard as he watched the nicely curved brunette march up the steps, her dark hair windtossed around a face he recognized instantly. Hell, he thought with a wince of chagrin. It really was Susan Landers.

He had the door open before she reached it. Because he felt awkward and a bit flustered by her unexpected arrival  not to mention stunned that the woman hed been lusting after for months was actually standing less than an arms length away from him  he spoke more gruffly than hed intended. "Why are you here?"

She had been looking at him with an expression of surprise he didnt quite understand. In response to his question, he had the odd feeling that he could almost hear her teeth grind together. "I did try to call you. Several times."

Hed rather not think about that first call just now. "What do you want?"

More than once it had been suggested that he lacked basic social skills. He preferred to believe that he simply saved time and energy by forgoing useless ritual niceties. Some people took offense at his manners  or lack of them  while others tended to respond in kind.

Susan belonged to the latter group. Planting her hands on her hips, she met his scowl squarely. "Are you going to invite me inside, or must we conduct this conversation with me standing on your doorstep in the rain?"

He moved out of her way. As she entered, she glanced around the large, airy, marbleandglass entryway with its big curving staircase before turning to face him. "Nice."

He tried to keep his gaze focused on her face, instead of the very nice rest of her. "Thanks. I guess I should ask you in to sit down or something."

Her expression was impossible to read when she nodded. "Thank you."

He wondered where he should take her. For some reason, his first thought was the media room  but since that was upstairs, he led her into a more formal, littleused sitting room instead. He motioned toward one of the wingback chairs that flanked the antique sofa. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. Do you have a staff for this big place?"

"I had a longtime housekeeper, but she retired last year. Since then Ive had several, but they keep quitting  the latest a couple weeks ago." And a dramatic exit it had been, too. Yelling at the top of her lungs, she had quit without notice. Jason considered himself fluent in Spanish and five other languages, but shed thrown words at him hed never heard before. He still didnt quite understand what had set her off. The explosion hadnt been all that big, and hed offered to help her clean the workshop.

"Dr. Morris "

"Jason," he interrupted.

"Jason," she continued. "I apologize for showing up uninvited on your doorstep. Thats not the way I prefer to do business, but I couldnt connect with you by phone, and you never replied to the letter I sent last week."

He shifted his weight on the pretty but uncomfortable sofa. "I havent looked at my mail in a couple of weeks. Your letters probably in a stack on my desk. As for the phone calls  well, I didnt believe you were really you. I have this buddy, see, with a weird sense of humor and I thought hed  anyway, that doesnt matter. So you want ?"

"Id like to set up an oncamera interview, at your convenience, of course."

She broke in to add, "I thought I could spend a couple of days with you, if that wouldnt be too bothersome. Give the viewers a glimpse into the life of a prominent inventor. It would be quite inspirational for young students considering careers in science and technology."

Though he always tried to encourage young people to pursue such studies, it wasnt that argument that appealed to him most. He was more tempted by the chance to spend a couple of days with the woman who had fascinated him since the first time he accidentally spotted her on television, talking about a chemical spill or some such event, the details of which he had missed because hed been too busy staring at her mouth.

Maybe an interview wouldnt be so bad, he tried to convince himself. Especially if it would encourage promising young scientists. Of course, there were things he would not discuss with her  or any reporter, until he was ready to go public with his newest invention. He would say that he preferred not to speak of ongoing projects, but hed be happy to talk about his past work. No problem, right?

"I suppose we could arrange something "

"Great." Susan spoke quickly, as if she didnt want to give him a chance to change his mind. She had that tenaciousreporter gleam in her eyes that he recognized from her TV reports. "I have a lot of questions to ask you  especially about the inventions youre working on now."

He scowled and called himself an idiot. This, he thought, was what he deserved for letting hormones overcome his common sense. A couple of days with Susan Landers could only lead to trouble  in many ways.